


The Power of Four

by analyticamethyst



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Original Character(s), They’re quadruplets now, also known as the Quadruplets and Quadducklets AU, “What if Donald raised Webby alongside the triplets?” AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 19:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16125050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/analyticamethyst/pseuds/analyticamethyst
Summary: Ten years ago, Bentina Beakley dropped off her lonely egg at Donald’s Duck houseboat for a quick stay while she went out on an important SHUSH mission.She never came back.





	1. Chapter 1

Donald was dreading answering the door.

The past week had been a blur of child services and news reporters and well-meaning but frustrating neighbors and outright mean neighbors and all the little annoyances that his luck brought him now that he was away from Scrooge’s defenses.

Looking down at the baby he was rocking gently in his arms, though, he knew he wouldn’t go back for a million dollars.

Della’s boys - his boys? - would have a much better life this way, and he was willing to sacrifice anything for it.

The sharp, swift knock came again. Donald heaved a sigh and set Dewey down in the playpen and reached for Louie, who was on the verge of tears. Louie was scared of pretty much everything, including loud knocks. Maybe if Donald scolded whoever was standing on his doorstep before they could get a word in edgewise about scaring his boys, maybe they would go away without any trouble.

Not with his luck, though.

Donald shuffled his way over to the door, rocking Louie gently, and opened it dreadfully. The person standing before him almost made him slam the door shut, except for the fact that she could kick his butt before the door was even halfway closed.

Oh, and the egg in her arms.

“I’m not here for anything related to Mr. McDuck,” Beakley announced, and Donald knows it’s the closest thing he’ll get to a peace treaty out of her. She glanced around behind her. “We should discuss this inside.”

Donald stepped aside. “Uh, come on in then.”

Beakley stepped around the mess that was Donald’s houseboat with an expression that said she was regretting all her life choices, holding the egg close to her chest. Donald winced. He usually kept his spaces neat and clean - he was way cleaner than Della, at least - but between moving and the boys and trying to get a stable job there wasn’t really time to clean.

Beakley hurried over to the kitchen table and sat down, still holding the egg. Donald placed Louie back in the playpen, where Dewey immediately started grabbing at him in his energetic way. “Do you want anything? Water, tea...?”

Beakley glanced around her, nose wrinkled. “Coffee, I suppose.”

Donald raised his eyebrows, but set about making the coffee with no added commentary. He poured out two cups from a pot that had been sitting on the counter and set them in the microwave. All of his movements were light and hurried, a combination of fear/a desire to impress Mrs. Beakley, as well as habit from living with three tiny ducklings.

He set the cups down swiftly and pulled out the chair across from the housekeeper. “Sooo... what’s the story?”

Beakley rubbed the egg, a small fond smile gracing her beak. “This is Webbigail. Arianna’s daughter.”

Donald’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Arianna’s back? And she had KIDS?!”

“Arianna had A kid,” Beakley corrected. “Webbigail. Shush came very close to catching Arianna and Blaise last week, and they left her behind.” She patted the egg fondly. “I’ve been taking care of her since, but since Arianna and Blaise are going to be on their toes after this loss, Shush has hired me to be on their tracking team, at least for a little while. I am entrusting her egg to you.”

Donald raised his eyebrows. “Me?! Well, what about Scrooge? Or your relatives?”

“Mr. McDuck is in absolutely no state to be anywhere near a child,” Beakley replied sharply. “And I wouldn’t trust anyone in my family with my granddaughter’s egg.” She slid Webbigail across the table. “Do you accept?”

Donald slowly nodded. “Mrs. B, I’m honored. But I really don’t want Shush knocking on my door for the egg. I have enough to deal with as it is.”

The older woman nodded. “I understand, and I’ll do my best to keep them away.” She checked her watch and stood up, placing Webbigail’s egg gently in Donald’s arms. “Take care of her. /Please/. I should be back in a few weeks, but I cannot day for sure. Be prepared to take care of her for life if something happens.”

Donald frowned worriedly. “That won’t happen, right?”

Beakley sighed. “It won’t. But you never know.” She grabbed her purse, kissed Webbigail’s egg gently on the top, and hurried out of the houseboat. At the door she paused. “Thank you, Donald.”

Donald nodded, smiling awkwardly. “No problem, Mrs. B.”

The hen nodded sharply and slipped out of the door. 

She would never come back.

Donald stared at the door for a moment before picking up the egg. “It’s very nice to meet you, Webbigail.

I think I’m going to call you Webby.”

Welcome to this wreck that is my life.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years later, Donald does his best to keep the last corner of his family he has together.

Donald Duck was a worrier.

He worried about his safety. He worried about his boys. He worried about Scrooge and Della, back when they were still around. 

Wait, no- bad train of thought.

He glanced at the egg resting in a bundle of Huey, Dewey, and Louie’s old mismatched hatching fabrics. 

There was a different bad train of thought he needed to board.

How unfortunate.

But he was Donald Duck. Nothing in his life was ever fortunate.

He turned to the calendar, with its picture of two puppies splashing each other playfully with a faded stain of orange from when Louie had called upon his inner picky eater and flicked carrot juice at the wall. The date when Mrs. Beakley had left Webby was circled in red, well over two weeks ago. Long after her estimated return time.

/It’s a Shush mission. They’re unpredictable,/ Donald reminded himself. But the cold sinking feeling in his stomach refused to leave.

He sighed and leaned his head into his hand. His thoughts were muddy from the lack of sleep, but he had a report due for his crappy job that he couldn’t afford to lose. At least in half an hour Louie would wake up. He was a night owl. Even though he wanted his boys to sleep, it was always nicer staying up late doing his stupid work with a warm, cuddly baby in his arms. And Louie loved cuddles.

A loud /crack/ startled him out of his hazy stupor. Instantly awake, his heart in his chest, he glanced around furitiveky for the source of the sound. Memories upon memories of dangerous times adventuring with Della and Uncle Scrooge, being in the Navy, and Paperinik days flashed through his head.

He didn’t want that life for his boys.

Even after he found the source his heart didn’t slow down, because there, nestled neatly in her blankets, laid Webby’s egg.

With a crack down the middle.

Donald’s heart jumped and he immediately abandoned his work and lunged for the egg. He knew exactly what to do, having hatched three boys with only Daisy’s help. He was already reaching for the phone now, abandoning the fact that they’d broken up for her steadfast help. 

He glanced at the pink-and-green crocheted blanket with a heavy heart. It was the one that Mrs. Beakley had brought.

Fear settled deep into Donald’s belly.

She would be so sad to miss this, and he was dreading breaking the news to her.

But at the same time, he was terrified she’d never come home to meet little Webby, egg or no egg.

—

“Unca Donald, Unca Donald! There’s a stranger at the door and Dewey’s gonna open it!”

For once, Donald thanked his lucky stars that the houseboat was small. Sure, it was cramped, and barely big enough to hold four lively children, but at least he could reach the front door easily before Dewey had a chance to open it.

Donald yanked the duckling back at the last second, despite his cries of protest. 

“C’mon, Unca Donald, strangers are just friends you haven’t met!” Heaving a sigh, Donald glanced down at his youngest kid. Webby’s curious and innocent almost completely mirrored Louie’s

He sighed and ruffled her feathers. “Not everyone, dear. Who’s there?” he called tiredly over the chorus of the kids’ voices. 

“Franki Rustfeathers, here about your electrical bill.”

Donald’s heart started pounding and he scowled suspiciously. “We don’t have electricity right now. We’ve cut it.” If he had to go throw /another/ harrowing call, he would scream.

“We’re prepared to offer you a new deal, but I need to speak with you first.”

At Donald’s silence, the duck outside groaned. “Look, you can give my boss Ludwig von Drake a call, but I came all this way. /Please just let me in./

Donald’s stomach turned. /Shush/.

He yanked open the door to reveal a short, dark brown duck wearing a stiff uniform and sunglasses. They glanced over the four children for a moment, but looked away just before any of them would think anything of it. Stomping inside, they pushed past Louie, and the youngest boy hurried to hide behind his uncle and clutch his leg. 

Donald gently set Dewey down as Huey closed the door with care. “Kids, there’s a new set of cards in my bedroom. Go check it out.”

Louie, Huey, and Webby hurried off excitedly, but Dewey turned to his uncle with suspicion dawning in his eyes. “Why don’t you want us around when you talk to the angry duck, Unca Donald?”

Donald sighed. “Because I’m afraid he doesn’t like kids much. It’s nothing personal, but if we’re going to get the electricity back I need him to be in a good mood. Electricity means TV. Okay, kiddo?”

Dewey’s face brightened. “I’ll do /anything/ for TV,” he promised, and sprinted back to the bedroom.

Shoulders heavy, Donald padded over to the kitchen where Franki was waiting. He started behind the counter. “Do you want anything to drink? Water, tea...?”

Franki shook his head and motioned for Donald to take the seat across from them. “We just need to talk.”

Donald nodded and sat down heavily. “What’s the deal?”

“Listen, Mr. Duck,” Franki leaned forward, their elbows resting on the table. An instinctive comment about manners rose to Donald’s beak before he could stop it. “We’ve been searching for you for four years. You have been very hard to find.”

Donald raised an eyebrow. “I made sure of that. I have a lot of... unfriendly people who would be happy to know where I live and that I have four children under my care and my care alone.”

Franki huffed. “Anyway, as you are aware, Bentina Beakley, an agent of SHUSH, left her granddaughter under your care five years ago when she went on a mission. Four years ago, enough time had passed that Agent 22 was declared MIA, basically killed on a mission.”

Donald had been expecting this. He had accepted this truth long ago. Yet it still felt like a punch in the gut. He nodded.

“We need to talk about her granddaughter,” Franki added emotionlessly.

Donald stiffened and he braced himself, squeezing a fist under the table. “What about her?”

“Well, her first legal guardian, should anything happen to Mrs. Beakley, is Scrooge McDuck,” Franki replied. 

Donald scowled and struggled to keep his temper in check. “She’s happy here. She doesn’t even know she’s not my kid - Della’s kid.” He slammed his fist on the table. “My family has already been ripped apart once. Don’t make that happen again.”

Franki groaned and rubbed at their temple. “Look, man, /please/ don’t drag your complicated family drama into this.”

“Then let Webby stay,” Donald snapped. 

Franki sighed. “I’ll see what I can do. No promises.”

—

Three days later, across town, an old miser’s face brightened at the sight of them, and that look alone made Franki almost tell him everything.

Almost.

“Is there any news?” the old duck whispered, hope shining in his eyes.

Franki sighed “I’m sorry, Mr. McDuck. It was a false lead. I will let you know if I find anything else.”

Scrooge’s face fell. “All right then. Good day.” His voice broke on the last syllable and in his hurry to close the door before the agent saw, he slammed it shut.

Bentina would have lectured him about that. About how old the hinges were and how much money and time it took to fix it, since he was too cheap to replace anything.

He slumped down against the door, the emptiness of his house swirling and settling around him with a finality that wouldn’t lift for seven years. 

He stayed there for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was writing this during class and I had to slip my phone away quickly so I deleted the note doc. I nearly had a heart attack but I got it back so everything’s fine :P
> 
> The two prologue-ish chapters are done! After this we move into present time. 
> 
> Donald is very, very protective of his kids. And Webby is his kid. It’s the same way in canon and you can fight me on this. But I’m thinking in this story Hortense and Quackmore died early on, and with that and the stuff with Della and Scrooge Donald knows all too well how tough it is to be split from your family. And Webby is his family.
> 
> Meet my new OC, Franki Rustfeathers! They’re a nonbinary Shush agent and one of Ludwig’s prominent admirers. They are also Done With This Shit. Plus more on them later!

**Author's Note:**

> So I weirdly never posted this here. I posted this on tumblr and finished the second chapter today. But when I went to post it, I realized I had never posted the first chapter. Oops!
> 
> GUYS!!!! IT’S HERE!!! I’M ACTUALLY DOING SOMETHING WITH ONE OF MY AUS!! Crazy amirite?
> 
> I was writing a request and my mind started to wander to this, so I just wrote it down as fast as humanely possible so the idea didn’t fly away :P it’s kinda short and I apologize. Hopefully the next chapters will be longer.
> 
> This is kinda a prologue of sorts, but the next chapter is set before canon too, so idk if I’ll end up having three prologues, one, or none. We’ll see!


End file.
